The Forgotten Color
by Dante's Divine Comedy
Summary: We all know that Harry Potter grew up with the Dursleys in Privet Drive number 4 but what would happen if shortly after Dumbeldore placed Harry with them their living arrangements changed. How would this effect Harry Potter and the decisions he later makes? Slash LV/HP
1. Chapter 1

Summary: We all know that Harry Potter grew up with the Dursleys in Private Drive number 7 but what would happen if shortly after Dumbeldore placed Harry with them their living arrangements changed. How would this effect Harry Potter and the decisions he later makes? Slash LV/HP

**A Night of Sulphur**

A night of sulphur  
in the garden  
with winding trees  
ex'quisite breeze

but sulphur ling'ring  
in the air

and in the blue heather  
I heard  
a girls voice  
clear as the moon

follow me down  
she sang, she cried  
follow me down  
down  
down  
to the riverside

so I left my bench  
and jumped the trail  
which  
hov'ring on  
that perfect  
voice

made its way  
to southern shores  
the voice called on  
away, anon

follow me down  
it sang, it cried  
follow me down  
down  
down  
down to the riverside

and at that river  
silent shore  
all voices converge  
in quiet waves  
had it been I  
who'd dreamt  
that voice,  
the last  
of fading  
childhood  
days?

By Jason Bentsman

* * *

The night was cold, the sort of cold that you felt deep in your bones and gripped you at the throat making it hard to breath. It was actually quite a suitable atmosphere mused Dumbeldore in his mind.

After all it was quite ironic that on this cold and dark October night. One of the darkest wizard's of the century known as the Dark Lord Voldemort to his followers and as you know who to the average wizard was defeated.

And that by a mere babe of not yet two years old. But it's not yet the right time now. I can always think over the surprisingly poetic defeat of Voldemort after I am back at Hogwarts.

Yes, that's what I'll do but first I must handle this matter. And then as If aware of his thoughts the until then peacefully sleeping child stirred in his arms.

But it seemed that the disturbance was not very troubling to the child. He whimpered a little bit and after that he went right back to sleep.

It was not long before the wizard spotted the house. In the shimmering light of the moon it could be seen clearly and if Albus Dumbeldore was a superstitious person than he would have seen it for what it was.

A bad omen for the future but alas he wasn't so he thought nothing further of it as it came into the field of his sight.

Number 4, Privet Drive was the same as any other house in the street a small house with a white picket fence in front of the door.

And a small backyard behind the house all by all it was a typical house in the suburbs. And as he stood there he silently transfigured a pebble he saw lying around on the ground in a basket.

He set the basket down and put the sleeping babe inside. He pulled a slightly crumpled letter out of his robe pocket and laid it in the basket beside the sleeping child.

And as he mused silently to himself he knew that what he was condemning the child known as Harry Potter and now also by the title the boy who lived, to a hard life of pain and loneliness. But he thought to himself later you shall be happy to know that your suffering spared the lives of thousands of people. After all this shall make you prepared for what is to come as the savior of the wizarding world.

And with that last thought, Albus Dumbeldore apparated away to Hogwarts. Where he thought upon the poetic defeat of the dark lord and the small thought he spared on Harry Potter was that it was all for the greater good. And this would be the last thought that he spared on Harry Potter for 11 years.

A small child of perhaps five years old was lying crumbled in the corner of a room. If, you could call it a room.

The room or space as you could call it existed out off a second hand closet, an old lumpy mattress full off spiders and fly's and a wooden chair seated against the window. Not far from the chair laid a boy with bruises in all the colors of the rainbow.

He wasn't crying like you would assume a child of his age would do. No, he was just staring motionlessly at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting sight in the world. He would have probably continued this for hours if he hadn't heard a disturbance from outside his private space or as others called it the hall closet.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were going at it again. "Vernon what is the meaning of this" Screamed my aunt. Her already shrill voice going even shriller if that was possible.

Vernon answered like he did every time that she asked about the bills that still hadn't been paid yet. "Pet , everything is in order we will pay that another time"."There's absolutely no hurry" He said trying to sooth my aunt. "No hurry , you say these are bills from 8 months ago if we don't pay them this week than they will take the house" Said my aunt. "And what will we do then sleep on the streets" my aunt cried.

I don't know what I felt than but later I would look back on this day and would clearly be able to say that that was the day that I fist felt satisfaction. That day I was truly happy that they were suffering even if I didn't understand that back then. A few days later we had to leave the house behind.

The bank had accepted the house as payment for all the unpaid bills. We moved to another city in a very different neighborhood from where we lived before. I was relocated from the hall closet to the basement in the new house.

It would take me a month to get used to the police sirens and the gunshots that sometimes broke out in the night but it wasn't rare either to see someone shooting someone in the middle of the day. Nothing much changed for me. In the 3 year that I have been living there.

My aunt still beat me every day with a broom or kicked me until I laid bleeding in a corner. I still heard my uncle panting behind his computer every night watching naked children. And I knew from the way he had been looking at me lately that he wanted to test for himself what it felt like to do those things to me.

I may be only 8 years old but I had seen enough young girls disappear from their corner of the street were they usually picked off customers. To know what they did to them. I had heard enough older boys from school tell stories about what happened to little girls and boys who went away with older men.

Practically every week they found one or more of them lying dead in a ditch. And this I knew from experience, I had found a naked boy laying in a ditch not far from school less than two months ago. His eyes were wide open. Almost as if he was still looking at his attacker.I didn't dare call the police because Uncle Vernon would probably blame my freakishness for what happened. So I ran without looking back at the boy who was floating in the water with his eyes wide open as if trying to beseech me to come back.

I still couldn't get the images out of my head. I am not naïve anymore I haven't been for a long time. Dudley should be grateful for my freakish presence in this house.

After all, I will get all the "loving" attention from his Daddy in place of him.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes, when I am temporally distracted from staring at the ceiling when I am alone in the basement.

I think to myself how funny it is that no matter how many times you show signs of abuse that adults look away from you as if they can't see you. They believe whatever Aunt Petunia says just so that they don't have to do anything.

They believe I am a delinquent and that I have mental problems. And like magic they can look at me again because they now don't have to think or do something about the bruises on my arms. Or the most obvious of them all the handprint shaped bruise on my neck from where my aunt tried to choke me for leaving blood stains on her carpet.

After all if he's such a bad kid then he must get in a lot of fights or the best excuse of them all. He does it to himself. They don't even think about the fact that I am only 8 years old . So why would an eight year old harm himself . But of course that question conveniently slips their minds. This is how life went in Privet Drive Number 4.

Life in the slums of Southall, England shows an entirely different picture. The people when they look at me know what's going on. They see the bruises and the split lip and they look trough me as If I am not there.

Because in the slums of Southall I am the norm. Because when you walk down the street you immediately see other children in the same condition as me. I prefer the people of the slums to the people of Privet Drive.

They both know the truth about me but at least the former group of people doesn't pretend to be obvious to what's going on. No, they know about it and they admit it by the way they look at me.

They just don't give a fuck about my life. And why should they? We are strangers to each other and at least they don't pretend to give a shit about me like those old ladies do in Privet Drive.

Life isn't sunshine and daisies but it could be worse. I say to myself. My aunt hits me and my uncle is probably going to start molesting me soon. But I have a roof over my head. And clothes on my back and get food from my uncle.

Of course it's a way to make me indebted to him. He knows it and I know it but still he keeps doing it and I keep accepting it. Because there's nothing else I can do. I am not naïve enough to wish for It to be different.

Because if I want anything to change then I'll have to make the changes myself. As an 8 year old child you don't have many choices.

The only smart thing to do is wait until I am old and strong enough to get out of here and not starve to dead on the streets. Or entertaining men on street corners for twenty pounds if I am lucky, and in the worst case I and up like that boy I found dead in a ditch.

There's noise coming from the hallway that leads to the basement. And there it is the telltale noise of clacking on the floor. The unmistakable noise that comes from my aunt's high heels.

"Boy, get out of your room and come and make lunch" Bellows my aunt outside of the door. "If you're not out of your room and making lunch in the kitchen in 5 minutes then you know what's going to happen don't you boy?" Screams my aunt.

I remember it very well. If that happens She's going to take the bucket that stands in the corner of my room. It's not an ordinary empty bucket that stands there for storage.

No, it's the bucket I use as a substitute for the toilet. Since a freak like me is not allowed to use the bathroom like a normal person. This she uses for my punishment if I do something wrong.

She puts the bucket filled with my urine and shit in the center of the basement. Then she takes me by the collar of my shirt and dunks my head in the bucket until I can't breathe anymore and have to inhale and swallow the fluids in the bucket.

This she does 20 times and every time she pulls my head out of the bucket I have to recite verses from the bible and If I make one mistake while reciting them. Then there will be hell to pay. If she thinks I am ungrateful than she makes me recite these verses from the bible

_**Thessalonians 5:18**_ In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning me.

_**James 1:17**_ Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no fickleness, neither shadow of turning.

_**Psalms 136:1**_ O give thanks to the LORD; for he is good: for his mercy endures forever.

If I make a mistake or she thinks I don't do say it with conviction and humbleness. This leads to a further punishment namely she hits and kicks me until I almost fall unconscious and then she takes a pillow and smothers me until I fall unconscious.

While saying that I am a monster and a freak and that this is punishment from God for my sins.

For a mayor offense in her book then she gets creative. But I try to block those punishments out of my mind. Not that it always works but it's better than nothing.

I get pulled from memory lane. When I hear the locks on my door being opened and then not a minute later you hear the sound of her heels fading away.

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, everyone it's been awhile. I have been really busy the last few months. I will try to update more regulary from now on. Please send a review my way if you like it or even if you don't like it. As long as it's constructive criticising I don't mind. I want to thank of muffins and sprinkles for the nice review. And also those who follow and favorite my story. **

**I support in no way or form child abuse! if you know of or suspect any child of being abused than you should report it immediately.  
**

I slowly get up from my knees. I feel the blood stream back trough my legs when I carefully stand up. I know I don't have time to wanted me in the kitchen in 5 minutes after all. But I can't help but enjoy the light shining on my face. It's always so dark in the basement.

Time in the basement flows differently. It's as if the world has stopped spinning and nothing you do makes a difference in the world. It's a silly thought because I know by now that any actions that I take don't make any difference for anyone but me. I slowly walk through the hall leading up to the kitchen. Aunt Petunia is standing before the stove in a flowery dress that could come straight out of that show.

What's it called? Hmm, ah yes, the desperate housewives. She's pretending to know how to use a spatula. She sees me coming and immediately shoves the spatula in my hands. "I want bacon with eggs"! "You hear me boy?" screams Petunia in a shrill tone. "Yes, aunt Petunia" I hear myself say. "Make sure that it's not burned like last time boy" I hear my aunt say while I am busy cooking the eggs. Aunt Petunia gives me a piece of bread and some water after they have eaten lunch.

I see uncle Vernon leering at me from where I am standing behind the kitchen table. He isn't even trying to be subtle about what he wants from me. After all, aunt Petunia is standing not too far from me and she doesn't even flinch at his behaviour. She's calmly looking for a different place to set her beloved pot of Azalea's. As if her husband isn't trying to undress her eight year old nephew with his eyes.

But did I really expect differently.

With the naivety that comes with my age, I had always thought that if my aunt just saw what he was trying to do that she would do something, anything to put a stop to his behaviour. But I guess that she can turn a blind eye to this as long as it's not her own son. It wouldn't surprise me if she tried to encourage him. She would see it as the price I paid for staying with them as if I wasn't already paying that price in blood.

Any amount of trust or affection that I held for my aunt that until this moment had still existed vanquished like sand before the wind. She would regret her wilful ignorance one day. There and then I promised to myself that I would make them suffer for what they had done and would continue to do to me. But now that my eyes had been opened to how misplaced the notion was that my aunt would help me. I now also knew that I couldn't count on her to put a stop to this perversion. I would have to do that myself.

And hadn't I known all along that if you wanted something to change that you had to do it yourself. I would have to take action soon if I didn't want to end up in a statistic of how many children are sexually abused annually in the UK.

I could see now that my rose coloured glasses had been forcefully taken off, that this was one of the many cracks that was starting to appear in my aunt's picture perfect life of make believe.

She was living in the slums of Southall after all. There wasn't much further that you could fall. She could tell her old neighbours in privet drive all she wanted on the phone of the big house she now lived in. And the sophisticated people she now lived next to, that didn't make it come true no matter how much she wished it would. And I would make sure that when I was done with them that her picture perfect life would break in thousand pieces of glass fragments.

"What are you doing just standing there boy"? My aunt hissed. "Don't you have chores to do"? My aunt continued in the same disgusting tone of sugary sweetness. "Yes, aunt I will get to them now" I answered her in the same monotone tone I always used with my aunt when I had to speak to her. I was relieved to be out of my uncle's sight even if it was only for a moment.

I knew that if he wanted to he could call my name in the gentle tone of voice he always used if he wanted something from someone and didn't want them to be suspicious of his intentions. I had seen him do it enough when we were still living at privet drive. When he held dinner party's to cosy up with the big wigs of the company he used to work for. He would use that tone when one of the partygoers asked about why I was living with them. He would then write himself off as if he was a kind hearted man who loved helping children.

He "loved" children alright. He loved seeing them without clothes on. He was nothing but a soon to be, if he had a say in it child molester. Dudley should be happy that he was almost a carbon copy of his father. Otherwise it could have been him in place of me. I tried to avoid him as much as possible. But I knew that that wouldn't work forever. And when in a rare moment of silence I looked across the room and looked in his eyes I knew that it wouldn't be long before he made his move.

And no matter what I did I couldn't stop it. Who could I tell about what my uncle was trying to do? No one, this I knew for sure. Who would believe me? There's not a single shred of evidence and even if I made a call to social services my aunt would back up my uncle up this I was sure of. And my life would only get worse. There had to be some kind of solution to this.

I was almost finished with my chores. I only had to put the freshly washed clothes out of the washing machine and into the dryer and then I could go to the basement. It was already past six. I had finished making dinner 20 minutes ago. My chores where done. And since I knew I wouldn't get any food until tomorrow because I had taken too long to finish the 2 pages long chores list that I had gotten from my aunt. I went through the hall to the basement hearing the sound of laugher fading the closer I get to the basement.

The door isn't locked yet so I can get in without trouble I take a beeline to the corner of the room. Where there is a bucket. I have to pee so I quickly get down to business. No matter how many times I have to do this. I still feel the same anger and shame like it's the first time I had to do this. I don't know why I feel this way it's not like it has ever been different. The only time that I ever get to go in to a bathroom is when it's time for me to clean it or when I am at school.

I wish school would begin again sooner. At least there I am safe from my uncle's leering and my aunt's "punishments". But it's still a week before school starts again thus I shall have to grin and bear it for now. I lie myself down on the ratty mattress in the middle of the cold room and try and make myself as comfortable as possible.

If they could they wouldn't even send me to school. After all, a freak doesn't deserve to go to school. But my aunt isn't stupid with their financial difficulties they can't afford not to send me to school. If they didn't send me to school then they would stop getting child support for me and they really can't afford that in their current situation. Not that their situation is going to change soon my uncle is still without a job.

He is only just now getting a small stipend from the government and that is only enough to cover a few bills a month. That's why aunt Petunia isn't a housewife anymore. The money they get to cover the rest of the bills comes from her pay check. This isn't a lot since she was only able to get a part time job working as a waitress in a fast food joint. They aren't able to safe anything since my uncle is using the child support money to support his new drinking habit. Not that aunt Petunia knows about that.

He only drinks when she's not at home. With these thoughts swirling around in my mind I fall in a fuel less sleep. I wake up to fierce knocking on my door. "It's time to come out and play freak" says Dudley while laughing. I get up as fast as I can because when Dudley comes to wake you up in place of my aunt. Then it foretells no good for my future. And I am right. When I get to the kitchen there's already breakfast on the table.

"Well, are you going to sit down, or are you going to keep staring at us with that stupid look on your face"? My aunt says. "Make it quick boy we don't have all day" My aunt all but hisses at me. I quickly sit down before she can say anything else to me. I wait in silence with my head bowed down before she can say I am disrespecting her by looking at her. It wouldn't be the first time.

I eat the food in silence even though my stomach is cramping from eating so much. I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I don't have to wait long. "Boy, Dudley and I are going shopping today for some new toys" she says even though she knows that they can barely make ends meet now days.

"And you'll stay here and do as your uncle says" My aunt says. This can't be happening to me. Not now not so soon. I think furiously to myself. I look up from the table I have been looking at for what I feel like are hours but are probably only seconds.

I look straight at the face of my uncle. He's grinning at me. He knows that as soon as they are out of the house. That there will be nothing stopping him anymore from doing what he wants with me. "Are you listening to me boy"? She screams. "Yes, aunt Petunia" he answers stoically.

_What's wrong with the freak? He's acting even more freakishly then he otherwise does_. She thinks to herself. _It doesn't matter what's wrong with him. So long as I can go shopping with Dudley, I don't care what happens with him. Vernon will keep an eye on him. He's being looking forward to making the freak do some work around the house anyways. Among other things_ she thinks nastily to herself.

"Dudley, grab your jacket we're leaving" says aunt Petunia. When they're by the door Dudley looks behind and says nastily "Have fun playing house freak". The door closes behind them with a resounding thud. I can't help but feel that I will never be able to forget this day no matter how much I may want to.

I look behind me and he's just standing there leering as If he can't believe that he's finally getting this chance. But he snaps out of that state quickly. "Boy, let's start your chores" says my uncle. "We'll start with you cleaning our bedroom" my uncle says while leering at me. He starts walking to the bedroom adjacent to the bathroom. He stops walking when he sees that I'm not following him.

"I am waiting boy, come here" my uncle all but yells. It's like my feet start walking automatically. I want to cry, scream, run away but I know that I won't get far even if I were to try. So, I just walk until I get passed my uncle into the bedroom. My uncle quickly closes the door behind him. I hear him walking up to me from behind.

I feel his breathing on my neck and his hand starting to slide from my neck to my arms. And the only thing that I can think of is that I just want it to be over. But I know that this will never be over. This is just beginning of the end.

**To be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

He sniffs my hair while letting his hands go up and down my stomach under my thin t-shirt. I can't keep the shiver of revulsion back. I feel him breathing in my ear and he says "Oh, how I have been waiting to do this my pretty boy". He says it likes it's no big deal, like its normal to do this to your own nephew. I want to be everywhere but here but I can't escape this place no matter how much I try.

I feel him getting excited and I want to throw up. "Take your t-shirt of boy" whispers my uncle to the back of my neck. When I make no move to comply then he takes matter in his own hands. And almost rips my t-shirt in half in his haste to take it off of me. "If you don't want to listen boy then I will have to make you listen" My uncle says furiously. "Get on your knees boy" my uncle yells.

When I just keep standing there, he kicks me until I fall on my knees. "Undo my belt boy and take off my pants freak" says my uncle. He gives me a few more kicks to the head and the stomach when I hesitate to long before fulfilling his command.

He's standing before me naked from the waist down. He tells me to get on the bed. When I refuse to do it he takes the belt from the floor and hits it on my stomach, my butt cheeks and my back until I feel the blood streaming down my back and front until they begin dripping small pools of blood on the ground.

To me the blood on the ground looks like a macabre painting of past battlefields that have been dishonoured by the enemy. He hits me a few times with his belt in the face for good measure. That's probably going to scar I think to myself dazedly. He pulls me up from my knees until I am standing unsteadily on my legs before the bed. He doesn't give me a moment to get to grips with myself before he throws me on the bed.

I stare at the bedcover in fascination. The bedcovers are a dark purple in colour so the bloodstains on them won't be as obvious as the bloodstains on the ground besides the bed. The trance I'm in gets momentarily broken by the heavy weight that settles itself on my back. I try to struggle from under him but that only seems to excite him more. I get a hit to the face for my trouble. "I am going to enjoy this boy" whispers my uncle into my ears.

I can't keep the tears back anymore. They stream down my face in small rivulets. It dampens the covers for but a moment and I can't help but stare at the wet spot on the bed. He takes off my trousers without any warning. I am lying on the bed with only my underwear on. I try to cover myself but he doesn't let me. "None of that now boy" my uncle says to me when I try. He revels in my fear and in my struggles for freedom.

This I know because otherwise he would have started what he really wanted already. He takes of my underwear while chuckling. I keep quiet when it starts happening. I grit my teeth against the pain and try to think about anything but what's happening to me.

But even when I zone out I still hear the sounds that he's making from above me. I hear heavy grunting at the beginning of the pain that spells over in moaning when he's nearing the end with the occasional groan in between. And all the while I am staring at the purple bedcovers imagining that I am sinking trough them and that I am flying away with the wind. I hear heavy groaning and then it's finally over.

I feel the weight disappearing from above me and it's like I can finally breathe again. I hear the bed squeaking when he stands up. He takes up the clothes on the floor and throws them at me while he gets dressed. "Get dressed boy and clean up the blood that you got all over the floor" says my uncle with a nasty smile. It has happened there is no going back now. I can never get back what's been taken from me.

If only I could get out of here than all this would stop.

**To be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry, for the lack of updates. I have been really busy. I will try to update more. I hope you review because it gives me great incentive to write when you do.**

Nothing has changed since that awful day three year ago. I am turning 11 years old in a few days. Life in the slums of Southall has continued like nothing has happened. As if I don't live in a nightmare every day. As if I don't wake up every day with the memory of filthy hands all over my body.

My plan to get out of this house and away from Vernon and Petunia continues. Since that day I have decided that nothing matters but myself.

I have to think of myself first before anything or anyone else. It's not hard to remember this philosophy every time I forget it Vernon is there to remind me of what happens if you put others first.

It has happened many times since the first time Vernon has done it. My anger and hatred continues to grow. I don't know how long I can continue to endure this.

The only good thing is that lately he seems to have started to lose interest in me. I must be getting to old to wet his appetite.

Lately, he is even more out of the house then he normally is. It seems he made some "friends" with similar interests. They must be supplying him with his preferred type.

The financial situation has not improved in the three years that have passed. On the contrary, it has gotten much worse.

My uncle doesn't even bother to hide his drinking habits from Petunia anymore. And he still hasn't gotten a job. And the stipend he gets from the government he drinks away or I suspect uses it to pay for his disgusting habits.

My aunt now has to go to work fulltime just to be able to make ends meet. She has lost her job at the fast-food restaurant because my uncle kept coming around her job drunk out of his mind.

She now has a job as a cleaning lady. She cleans public bathrooms almost every day. Their marriage has worsened considerably in the last few years.

She has finally realized what a disgusting lowlife he is. Not that she's much better. She just hides it behind sugary sweet words and flowery dresses.

If she had any sense in that head of hers she would pack her bags and Dudley divorce him and never look back. But she doesn't and sooner or later she's going to pay the price for that decision. If it's up to me, it will be much sooner than later.

The only good thing about my uncle's habits is that Petunia now has to work almost every day. And when she gets home she is too tired to torment me.

Dudley has changed a lot as well in the last few years. He isn't the largest and the meanest kid on the playground anymore. That changed fast after we came to live here.

He's just the fat white kid around here. He had to learn fast to not use the racist language that his father had taught him around here. When you're one of the few white kids in the neighborhood you learn fast what to say and not say.

Dudley took his time to learn this lesson and he still suffers the consequences from this until now.

He has gotten much quieter and it seems that he has learned that following his father's example only gets you a fist in the face around here.

He has lost considerable weight since we came to live here. It seems that running from running from bullies is good for something, who would have thought that.

It seems my time of peace has come to an end for today.

I can hear the telltale noises of the stairs creaking from the strain of withstanding my uncle's grotesque body going down the stairs.

How I have dreamed more than once of the moment that the stairs would give away under the considerable weight of his body and that he would die from the resulting fall or from the debris falling on top of him.

One or the other happening would be enough for me I'm not particularly picky about either outcome as long as his death is agonizingly slow that is enough for me.

It seems that the day has started again. It doesn't take long for me to hear the telltale sound of the hard thumping of knuckles against the door. It shouldn't take long before I hear the shrill voice of Petunia.

"Freak, get up and make breakfast" my aunt yells. "We don't have time to stand around doing nothing like you boy!" says my aunt before she's gone again.

A few years ago I would have angrily thought in the safety of my own mind that it would be impossible to do less than her in this house. But the reality since then has gotten much sweater. Just thinking about her cleaning filthy toilets brings great joy to my existence.

Let's stop daydreaming and start the day it's not like there is going to happen anything interesting today or the following days.

**To be continued**


End file.
